222 Haunting

All of New York City you followed me

license plates and phone numbers and dollars paid at the cafe

cruel joke, hopeful longing

the leaning in or away

the bridge or the steeple

both you said, tormenting me with your truth

both and… neither.

Can I lean in? yeah, only so close

Can I lean out? sure, only so far

stuck juggling, stuck choosing

all the cards fell out of my purse and I lost 2,2, & 2

we got to the hotel room late, number 222

put in a tip for the coffee, $2.22

the whole world teasing me forward and calling me back

there you are, shaking your head every time

there you are, leaning in and out

here I am, or was, still in love

still so violent in my yearnings

222 on the mileage and 2:22 PM

miss you right beside me

miss myself too close to me

screaming furiously in myself “where do you want me!!!!”

both and! maybe here! not there! not like this, or that

I kiss you and I cry

I don’t kiss you and I cry

is that the lesson? no matter where it always comes back?

all same same but different except perspective?

“I just want you to love me back” “I do”

“then I just want you to want me back” “I do”

“then I just want to understand” “I’m sorry”

Is that all this is good for? The pendulum swing of apology?

Can’t be. Simply can’t be. Doesn’t align.

Tension needs alignment. Bridges need alignment.

Everything lines up except my needs,

where can I find that?

Still here every day, still here all the time.

Almost I can ignore you. Almost render you meaningless

but can’t. Simply can’t. Doesn’t align.

It’s all a ghost - not you or me but it.

Between us in the bed, reading over my shoulder

can’t lean in to something “not real”

can’t be held by ideas in motion

can’t be held by asking if it’s in the room with us

at least the ghost will sing me to sleep

quiet heart for a moment, frozen in dream

loud heart made quiet when it’s in the room with us